34. Misunderstanding the Assignment #2
I nearly snorted water out my nose, then thumbed a reply: Stop itttt. You know I'm trying to stop throwing shade over stupid shit.
She shot back: Girl you threw the tree, the branch, AND the roots at this chick. Go off.
I grinned like a fool and let the phone fall to my lap. Thought about texting Cam. It was not the first or even the fifth time I thought about doing that today.
I used to pride myself on keeping everyone at a distance.
Never let anyone close enough to be missed.
Now here I was, all up in my damn feelings and getting tight staring at the ceiling because there was no arm across my stomach at night.
When did that happen? How did I go from blocking her to missing her so bad it made me annoyed with myself?
Catching feelings was hell.
I forced myself to finish my sandwich at least before I let myself text her.
The first attempt was basic: Miss you. Set's a drag. I deleted it, because I sounded like a toddler with separation anxiety.
Second try: Thinking of you. Don't let Stacks get you in trouble. Deleted again, this time because it was giving trying too hard.
I put the phone down, chewed a piece of ice, and glared at the trailer ceiling like it might offer a secret third option.
It did not. The only option was to FaceTime, which was the one move I'd sworn to avoid until I got home and could do it from the safety of my own apartment, where I didn't have to look around my shoulder in case my face looked too soft.
Something about her voice, her face on my screen, it…settled me. Couldn't explain it. Didn't know what I'd say, either. Just wanted to see her name light up my phone, hear her talk about nothing for a minute. And I damn sure wasn't used to feeling needy like this.
So, I called her.
Cam picked up on the second ring, her face filling the frame.
She was at a rehearsal studio somewhere in New York, the whole space behind her a blur of sweating dancers, bad LED lights, and a mountain of half-unpacked tour gear.
She wore a cutoff tee with her own name on it, arms out, hair barely tamed, the left side of her face streaked with what looked like eyeliner. Lower lip looked kissable.
She looked tired, happy, and so hot I almost hung up out of spite.
"You caught me on a break," she said, tucking her phone into the crook between a speaker and a bottle of Gatorade. "Is this a booty call or a health or wellness check-in?"
"Little of both," I said. "You alive?"
Cam leaned against what looked like an equipment case. "Yeah, just got done with wardrobe fittings. Stacks' styling team went all out for this tour. Some of these looks are wild."
Stacks' voice echoed from somewhere nearby. "Don't listen to her, Romi! She looks fire, and she knows it!"
"Noted," I said, and watched Cam's eyes crinkle at the edges.
We bantered back and forth, nothing serious. She appreciated how different I looked all done up for the cameras, saying the makeup team's vision was giving '90s fine. Not that your ego needs the calories, she added.
"How's the single doing?" she asked, toweling sweat from her neck. Tried not to think about my mouth on that spot at all.
"Good. Really good, actually." I kept it casual, didn't mention it was projected to knock her and Stacks' song out of the number one slot this week.
That was an in-person conversation. Her, calling me every kind of menace and walking me back into a wall about it, slow, all that mock-outrage in her face right up until it turned to hunger.
She smiled. "That's what I like to hear."
"Mm." I checked my liner in the trailer mirror. "Skye and Niko might feel differently."
Cam's face lit up, her grin turned wolfish. Not surprised. She'd watched the session, probably rewatched it, front row energy, drinking it in. "Okay, but that verse though." She shook her head slowly. "That was cold, Romi. That was genuinely cold."
"They earned it."
"Oh, they absolutely earned it." She was smirking now, leaning into the camera. "I'm also—and I mean this with full sincerity—happy to have survived the villain arc and got promoted to girlfriend. Love that for me."
"Oh, did you now?"
I fought a smile and lost, because the audacity.
There was a version of this where that was accurate.
Where it was proximity, warmth, and us figuring out what not being enemies anymore meant.
But something had been happening in the way I reached for my phone at night, sound up to max because I didn't want to miss her call, and the alternative was lying there in the dark missing her.
Plus, I literally roasted her ex for being mad I existed in public, on the internet. If Cam wasn't my girlfriend, I didn't know what word fit her.
"How's rehearsal? Stacks working you to death?"
"I heard that!" Stacks shouted.
"Pretty much. But it's good. The choreography for our collab is insane. I should probably get back to it." A beat. "Rather sit here and look at you instead."
She glanced off-screen as someone called her name, then peered back at me through the screen. For a split second, there was no distance, no noise, only the two of us. "Miss you real bad."
The words sat in my chest for a second. Pride almost stole them from me: the impulse to deflect, to act like it didn't land. But I needed her to hear me.
"I am trying very hard not to be in love with you."
"Trying? Is it working?"
"No."
Her whole face changed. Softened in a way that made me want to reach through the screen. She scrubbed a hand over the back of her neck and turned away for a second, smiling at absolutely nothing.
"Good," she said, voice a little rough. "Didn't want to be the only one feeling stupid about it."
"You're not," I said. "Trust me."
Stacks popped into frame, sweaty and breathless and grinning hard.
Cam tried to push her out of the frame, but Stacks dodged away.
"Ooooh, Cammie has a girlfriend! Alright, alright, lovebirds.
I'll leave y'all alone. But Cam, for real, we need to run this again in five.
" She disappeared off-camera, calling back, "Love you both, but my tour starts in three weeks! "
It was me and Cam again.
She settled onto a flight case and propped her chin in her palm. "So, you gonna make it out for the New York show?"
"Booked my flight already," I said. "You think I'm gonna miss you at home?"
"I hope not. My parents been asking to meet you, too. They'll be there, and my mom is nosy AF, so brace yourself." She laughed, then bit her lip, as if debating her next words. "You know, after this run, I got a free week until kickoff. Could come crash at your place. If you want."
Heat burned up my cheeks, and I couldn't turn down the smile, not for nothing. "Yeah. I want."
Cam stared at me, unblinking, memorizing it for later. "Good," she rubbed her hands together. "You finally get to see K-Pop Demon Hunters."
Whatever that was, I have no idea.
I checked the time and realized my lunch break was over by five minutes. The AD would be at my door any second, with a walkie and a fake smile.
I said, "I gotta go. They're calling me back to set."
Cam blew me a kiss at the phone, which was corny, but I didn't hate it.
I ended the call, sat for a minute in the quiet, and let it sink in.
It's wild how easy it is to be strong when you know someone's rooting for you. I could have floated through the rest of the day on that one call.
When the knock came, I stood, wiped the crumbs off my shirt, and faced the world like I was born to do it.
Maybe I was.